


Scene Two: Roger Rabbit

by TheChief, YourForever



Series: Muke AF [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Blame Meta, Clemmings, Hardcore, M/M, Muke - Freeform, This is late, my bad - Freeform, not sorry, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 21:05:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2284449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheChief/pseuds/TheChief, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourForever/pseuds/YourForever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is there a right way for being strong?<br/>Feels like I'm doing things all wrong<br/>Still I'm here just holding on<br/>Confess my heart and forgive my wrongs.</p><p>If it ain't you then who's gonna love you?</p><p>Nobody's gonna love you if<br/>You can't display a way to capture this<br/>Nobody's gonna hold your hand<br/>And guide you through<br/>It's up for you to understand<br/>Nobody's gonna feel your pain<br/>When all is done<br/>And it's time for you to walk away<br/>When you have today<br/>You should say all that you have to say</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scene Two: Roger Rabbit

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on a request/prompt idea from horrormoviemuke.tumblr.com whose a hardcore Michael girl after my own heart.
> 
> I was thinking maybe, if you like it, you could shoot me a message on Twitter (@LittleBlueMys) or Tumblr (bring-me-the-superwholock.tumblr.com) and maybe possibly I could do the rest of the scenes instead of just number twice? It wouldn't have to be the same pairing, but I'd definitely link them together in series no matter what.

**Monophobia (noun) - extreme or irrational fear of being alone**

**Philophobia (noun) - extreme or irrational fear of falling in love**

No one wants both.

* * *

Not like this. Not when he can't stop the shaking in his hands when he's left alone for too long. Not when he gets sweaty and flushed and can't quite string his words together if someone's a little too close to his personal space.

Sure, they're not the love of his life. Hell, they might not even be flirting with them, but there's a possibility and Luke doesn't want to have to talk himself away from that edge.

So he avoids it all.

There's a mask, of course, where he grins and laughs, knocking his shoulders against his bandmates'. On stage he's a verifiable rock star and the crowd goes wild when they're out there.

It's when he manages to get time away that things stop spinning. He can see straight, see the path to hell he's walking toward.

He can only stand to be alone for ten or so minutes at a time before the ache in his bones makes him seek out company. Just a friendly smile to help keep him from freezing over.

Luke has always been sure of his preference in the opposite sex. So when it comes down to avoiding crushes and falling, a leap he doesn't wanna take, he lets himself relax around the other members of 5sos.

They're safe. They're his home. They're all he can keep with him during these road trips some times.

So he buries his head further into the illusion he's built to block out reality, taking time to himself whenever he can, for as long as he can stand it. The next minute he's scrolling on his phone in the dressing room, relaxing back now that he's away from the crowd and the fans and, hell, the pretty stage hand.

* * *

It takes him a while to realize that flirting, messing around, none of that leads to love. Luke lets his smiles ease a bit more in the presence of others. He let's himself lean against MIchael or keeps himself from ducking behind Ashton, no matter their height difference.

He files his philophobia into a never to see again tab and simply avoids any romantic pursuits. Besides, he has his career to focus on.

By now the boys know of his issues, but they've all agreed - in private - not to talk about it or ask. They figure that Liz raised a good boy and, worst case scenario, they'll call her in to patch it up.

Except when he does break, his mom is nowhere to be found and there's an ache in his gut he can't quite alleviate.

* * *

It starts one night before a concert. He's doing his usual, keeping good company, Michael draped across his lap, Calum has tucked himself up against Luke's side and the blonde is perfectly fine with it. There are people nearby and he's warm, happy.

He's almost drifted off, eyes on Michael's face, when he realizes the omnipresent fear is gone. There's no dull pain scratching at the backs of his eyes, making him want to close them, to leave.

The strange sensation of being two seconds away from solitary confinement for life is gone.

Then, it's back as Ashton bursts into the room and calls them up to get ready to head onstage.

* * *

That night, he's in a hotel room with Calum. Cal spends most of the time teasing Luke uselessly about fangirls and they don't actually talk about anything useful.

When they fall asleep in seperate bed and Luke wakes up curled around Cal, the other is kind enough not to say anything about it. Besides, they've been closer than that before so it's not like it makes too big of a difference.

Luke is just stuck trying to forget the fact that he'd woken up for a second and thought that it was Michael's arm over his hips.

* * *

They're next concert is almost too easy with how smoothly it flies by. There's, surprising, nothing that gets thrown at them that meets it's mark and Ashton manages to only break three sticks the whole night.

It's a long night on the bus, but Luke manages to get a few hours of sleep in the lounge, on one of the couches, his head pressed against Ashton's side as some movie plays overhead.

It's Michael that wakes him up when they get to their hotel, saying that after the usual coin toss, Cal and Ash were rooming together and had already headed in.

Luke nods, yawns, and stumbles to his feet, grabbing his bag and climbing off the bus.

Sure, they have beds, but they still prefer hotels where they can get them.

* * *

The only difference is when Luke manages to climb out of his bed and into Michael's while mostly asleep, Michael actuallys says something.

At first it's only a few mumbles of disinterest before he huffs and opens his arms. Luke obliges, sliding into place alongside him.

* * *

Luke wakes up with Michael's heat gone and it takes him a few minutes longer than it should before his hands stop shaking and he can actually get a hold on the blanket to pull it off.

He's only just sitting up when Michael reenters, setting a plate of hotel food down nearby.

"For me?" His words are still slurred from sleep, but the guitarist nods anyway.

Luke doesn't stop to ask why, only digging in. He's halfway through a muffin, when Michael grunts and passes over a coffee too.

"We need to talk."

Luke winces at the words, but knew they'd be coming eventually. "Yeah, I know. It's just.. hard to explain."

"Actually it's not. Your mom managed just fine." Michael cut him off. "Ash and Cal know too, but they're off around town since we have the day off. They'll talk you too when they get back. For now though, I just wanted to know why you didn't tell us. We would've made sure to accommodate."

Luke takes a too hot gulp of coffee and ignores the numbing scald of liquid against his tongue. "If you haven't noticed, I'm managing it well enough."

"True, but we could still try and make it a little easier on you. You're our lead singer. Nothing you do will solely affect you now. We're a band."

Luke nods after a bit.

It takes him longer than it should to do as asked. He brakes off bit by bit and explains exactly what it's like. Michael sits off on the other bed and listen, asking questions, getting into the little details.

Luke doesn’t know how long they sit there when Michael’s phone beep on the end table and he reads the text and replies before glancing over at Luke. “Cal and Ash are heading to a movie. Wanted to know if we’d catch up. I told them no.”

Luke is more than a little tempted to fight back – he isn’t fucking broken, damn it. He just gets shaky sometimes. Occasionally he aches and needs to feel the brush of a hand over the backs of his fingers.

Other times he can sit in one spot and ignore the world as long as he isn’t aware of it.

Before he can really consider fighting back, Michael has stood and flipped on the television, turning it to some show about modern music. "Sorry, but I'm not really in an out and about mood."

And they both spread across separate beds, blaring bad 70's rock until that show ends and something about 90's grunge comes up on the screen.

Michael glances over mid-introduction. "Do you feel the cold you described now?"

Luke nods after a second of consideration. "It's not obvious, but it's there, in the back of my mind. Happens occasionally if I'm left alone for too long."

"Here." Michael climbs from one bed and into Luke's, throwing himself over the blonde's legs.

 "What was the other one Liz was talking about?" Michael asks, even as Luke is busy letting himself relax back against the bed.

"It's complicated."

"Uncomplicate it."

It goes downhill from there. Or uphill. Depending on how you look at it.

* * *

 

It's almost dark outside and Luke can't make himself care that the television is playing some terrible soap opera quietly because Michael's above him and there's sweat slicked skin beneath his palms.

Clothing has long since been shed and Luke can't make himself look away from the other man.

He has his legs pinned, but he's not complaining because the heavy weight on him is keeping the cold at bay and the push and drag of skin against skin is keeping his mind off the ache of his bones.

They're not at all prepared for something like this and they decide to keep it to the basics this time around, but Michael insists on a next time, one with proper materials and a real bed, not a hotel knock off.

For now they're working with the too small container of hotel lotion and hands and mouths.

And teeth. Luke hasn't thought about it before, but Michael starts with pressing his too red mouth against Luke's shoulder, lips swollen from frenzied kisses, and Luke thinks that's it, but then he's biting down. Not too hard, just enough to drag Luke's breath in one drawn out gasp as his nails dig into the guitarist's sides.

Fingers drag along Luke's collar bone and there's a palm pressing against his collarbone, pushing him down into the mattress as Michael gives in to the hand wrapped around him.

Luke takes another second, waits until he feels Michael's comforting weight drop on top of him, both boy gasping for air and only then does Luke drop over the edge.

* * *

 

He stirs a few hours after to knocking at the hotel room door. His phone lights up on the end table a few seconds after the knocking slows. Luke fumbles for a second before reaching around Michael, managing to get his hands free from where they're curled between the two of them.

"Hello?" His voice is croaky from muffling groans into Michael's mouth, neck, shoulder.

Michael curls closer and Luke can feel that the other boy is hard again. He manages to swallow a gasp before it can escape.

"Let us in."

It's Ashton and Cal is the background, sounding grumpy and complaining.

"Can't. Mikey's sleeping. We'll talk tomorrow at breakfast before we head to the bus."

"It's barely ten."

"Too bad. I'm not getting up. I don't wanna deal with a grumpy guitarist tomorrow."

"You're gonna be dealing with one if you don't shut up." Michael grumbles, curling himself closer to Luke.

"Fine fine.." Luke knows he'll hear shit from the two of them tomorrow, but he can't bring himself to care and he hangs up the phone.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note... about my username... cough cough. Someone get it. Please. 
> 
> Anyway, leave me a kudos if you liked it, or a comment telling me what you did or didn't just to help with that little push.
> 
> Best to expect more 5sos, with maybe a little 1D thrown in because someone found out about my long harbored love... And, yeah. So. That.
> 
> Give me any prompts/requests/songs and I'll gladly write them! I haven't found a song I hate yet. I'm up for whatever musically, which means I'll also be willing to write most prompts you can think of. There are a few I'll say no to, but those are strictly because I can't.
> 
> (Note: Sorry about little spelling errors here or there. I may not have said this before, but English isn't my first language and I still get a few things mixed up every once in a while for grammar and word tense.)


End file.
